


Small Hours

by Birdbitch



Category: DCU
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:27:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3087989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdbitch/pseuds/Birdbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're back from patrol and there's still some energy coursing through the both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Hours

**Author's Note:**

> This can really take place at any point where Dick is Nightwing, so I'll leave the when up to the readers.

Post-fight adrenaline is still kicking its way through Dick’s veins, pumping and bringing a flush up to his cheeks right under the line of his mask. That isn’t the least of it; he feels Bruce’s eyes trained on him and for a minute, it feels almost like he might criticize him, comment on some aspect of the fight that wasn’t perfect or wasn’t executed correctly, when Bruce opens his mouth and says, “That was good.”

“You think?” he asks, and he laughs, stretching down to touch his toes. Most of his uniform (and how long has it taken for him to think of it like that as opposed to a costume?) is off, and they’re standing together in the cave’s locker area trying to return back to the people they are when they go back upstairs. The arms and chest hang around his waist, and he figures he should swap out his tank for a clean one before they do eventually leave, but for now, he’s comfortable. “Maybe we should patrol together more often.”

Bruce shifts when he says it, and he almost regrets it but not enough to take it back. It’s true—he always misses patrolling with Bruce, working with him and fighting alongside him, and he wishes he got the chance to do it more often. “You have a scratch on your shoulder,” Bruce answers, voice low and soft. If Dick didn’t know him any better, he might have called it tender.

“Are you going to dock me points for it?” He stands up and looks over his shoulder. He missed it, but the faint scratch is there nonetheless. Behind him, Bruce is staring. He’s already out of uniform, the batsuit put away in its proper place and a pair of sweatpants and a tight t-shirt covering for the time until Bruce inevitably puts on another uniform. It’s like this that he’s the least guarded and maybe the closest to acting like himself. Dick’s eyes catch on his, and it occurs to him that he’s not the only one who still has adrenaline racing through him, and that maybe it has nothing to do with the fight they won, after all.

“Maybe I should.” It comes out almost flirty, but certainly not nearly as flirty as Dick knows Bruce is capable of being. They flirt plenty. They’ve been flirting for awhile now. Right now?

Dick doesn’t really want to waste time flirting, and he figures that Bruce probably doesn’t, either.

“Do you have a band-aid I could put on it?”

He has it ready already, and when Dick turns his head back to face forward, he can hear the crinkle of the wrapper and then the press of Bruce’s fingers as he puts the band-aid over the cut that, to be entirely honest, was probably there before they even went out on patrol in the first place. It’s as much an excuse as anything else, and Dick leans into the touch before turning his head enough that he can press a chaste kiss against Bruce’s lips. It’s a question, and when Bruce kisses back, that’s enough of an answer as he needs.

It’s Bruce’s hands that turn him so that they can face each other, and Dick ends up with his arms wrapped around Bruce’s shoulders and his fingers dragging through the older man’s hair. There are better places to be doing this, places with less cameras and more human comforts, but then, they’re both on edge now. Bruce devours when he kisses, one arm wrapped around Dick’s waist and the other leading to a hand that squeezes Dick’s ass and gets him to groan. Dick lets his head fall back and Bruce’s mouth moves to his neck, where he presses a searing kiss before moving along to his collarbone.

The kisses make Dick shiver, and he tries to keep himself steady by balancing his hands on Bruce’s shoulders as he goes lower and lower. They both know where it’s heading and he’s hard, waiting for Bruce to help pull down the rest of the uniform and everything else with it. The tank top has been long discarded, tossed somewhere in the direction of the dirty laundry hamper. At this rate, Dick is going to be standing stark naked while Bruce still has some of his dignity.

He doesn’t think he minds it, especially when he sees Bruce sneak a hand down and into his own sweats to jerk himself. It makes Dick bite his lip and cant his hips forward as Bruce’s mouth comes closer and closer.

“Don’t tease me,” he says, eyes clenching shut.

“I’m not,” Bruce answers, just as he presses a kiss to Dick’s inner thigh. He holds the younger man’s legs still when he takes him into his mouth, and there’s a humming sensation that feels a lot like a laugh when he feels Dick’s fingers tighten on his shoulders.

The longer they’re like this, Bruce on his knees in front of Dick and Dick trying not to fuck into his mouth (though he’ll be the first to admit, he isn’t trying very hard), the more both of them get the nagging thought that they really should be moving the party somewhere else. Neither of them can remember who was supposed to be on monitor duty tonight, whether it’s going to be Babs checking the cameras of Gotham from a remote location or Tim coming down to use the cave to do it. In either case, they should hurry it up; if it’s Barbara, she’ll be checking in with them the second she starts the sweep just as a perfunctory measure of record keeping, and if it’s Tim, well.

They both know well enough.

But even if they know, they’re still down there, and now, finally, Dick is on the edge and about to come. Bruce will hold off until he doesn’t have the sweats on anymore, maybe pursuing Dick upstairs, even, to do so, but Dick doesn’t have any reservations.

Bruce gets a five second warning and then it happens. When Bruce doesn’t move, but instead finishes up by swallowing, Dick groans and sinks down to his own knees, where he’s caught in strong arms.

“You should take a shower,” Bruce says, and he’s about to argue until he thinks about it, and realizes that Bruce is right—he really should. “I’ll wait here for the call or for Tim, and then.” He stops abruptly and looks at Dick. He gets the message.

“You want me to go straight up and just use that shower?” he asks, and Bruce shrugs. “You can join me, depending on how long I take.”

Bruce considers it before nodding his head. “That sounds like a good plan.”

Dick grins at him before standing up and moving to grab clean clothes from his locker, and Bruce moves away to wait at the console for whoever to start monitors. He’s more than a little tired, but he figures, maybe a nice shower is exactly what he needs to wake up.


End file.
